by Kyla Stone
Gonzales dipped his chin. “Don’t abuse our hospitality, and we’ll be straight.”
Micah took another sip of milk and glanced around the table. Gabriel sat at the far end, his hands folded on the table, free of cuffs, a long-sleeved waffle-knit shirt covering the bruising on his wrists.
Gabriel met his eyes with a hard smile. But Micah knew him. He recognized the anxiety underneath, that coiled restlessness that set Micah’s teeth on edge and filled him with foreboding. Why hadn’t Jericho handcuffed him? Didn’t Jericho recognize how dangerous his brother was? He jerked his gaze away.
Jericho, Elise, Horne, Willow, and Silas were seated and well into a breakfast of scrambled eggs and pancakes. He’d slept late; even Finn and Celeste were already up. Benjie and Amelia weren’t here; they’d been quarantined in separate buildings last night.
Micah rose to his feet, fresh fear jolting through him. It felt like waking from a pleasant dream to realize you were still trapped in a nightmare. After they’d escaped the dogs, they found Amelia unconscious in the back of the truck, her face white and sweating, her skin on fire. “Amelia—"
Beside Jericho, Elise flinched.
Harmony refilled his cup from a pitcher and handed it to him. “She’s in our infirmary, remember? She’s safe and as comfortable as we can make her.”
“Infirmary?” Micah said dumbly, glancing around the room.
Harmony sat down across from him and folded her hands on the table. She wore bright tangerine nail polish beneath her plastic gloves. She seemed grandmotherly at first glance, but there was strength in the sharpness of her posture, a wary intelligence in her eyes. She was the leader of this place for a reason.
“We added a three-room infirmary when we built this place two decades ago,” she said. “We’ve got three patient rooms and a small surgical theater for minor injuries. Once the virus hit, we sealed off the rooms for quarantine.”
“Can you save her?” Elise’s shoulders hunched, her face haunted.
“There isn’t anything that can save her now, but we can make her comfortable.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. Elise’s pallor paled even further. Micah winced. Harmony’s words were true, but he hated hearing the words spoken aloud.
But Amelia was strong. She’d lived with epilepsy her whole life. Surely, she could fight this stupid disease. “What about a cure?”
Harmony shrugged helplessly. “There isn’t one.”
Silas stood up abruptly, shoving his chair back, his expression a rigid mask. Without a word, he stalked out of the cafeteria and slammed the door behind him.
“Excuse him,” Elise said weakly. “He’s had a rough time.” As if the rest of them hadn’t.
For a second, Micah longed to meet Gabriel’s gaze and roll his eyes, like they’d done for years. But he couldn’t. Their brotherly camaraderie was long gone.
“But the FEMA camps.” Elise bit her lower lip. “That’s where we’re headed. They said—”
Russell grunted. “You don’t wanna go there.”
“But the fliers—” Elise sputtered. “They said there’s a treatment.”
Harmony met Elise’s gaze. “Not everything the government says ends up being true.”
“We have to take her there.” Elise’s hands fluttered to the hollow of her throat.
Harmony adjusted the mask over her face. She closed her eyes for a moment. “When my grandson got sick, that’s where we took him,” she said very quietly. “He didn’t come back.”
Elise stilled. Willow’s eyes took on a wild, haunted look. She wrapped her arms around herself. Micah knew they imagined Amelia and Benjie in the same circumstances. There was so much death, so many people who’d suffered huge loss. “I’m so sorry.”
Horne cleared his throat. “Things change. It’s been weeks. Surely, the WHO, the Department of Defense, and every country’s health organization are working around the clock—”
“Are you sure?” Harmony asked. “We haven’t seen them.”
“Well, why wouldn’t they be? I’m sure they’re on the brink of a breakthrough.” He glanced around and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “We need to get out of the boondocks and find actual civilization.”
Micah bit the insides of his cheeks, fighting down a flare of irritation. People like Horne had never experienced the inconvenience of hunger or the frustration of an indifferent government. He didn’t have a clue what it was like to be in a situation where no one came to save you. Micah tried to have sympathy for everyone, but some days—and some people—were harder than others.
“We’re taking Amelia and Benjie to FEMA,” Jericho said. “We could use your help, but we’re going with or without it.”
Harmony nodded heavily. “Some people must see to believe. Here is the one thing I ask. Go see it for yourselves before you try to transport that suffering girl. It’s one-hour west by car. The main road is so congested with abandoned vehicles, you’ll never get close, but there’s an access road I can show you. It’ll be almost entirely clear, and it’s through woods and fields, safer than the open highways. Still, it is a dangerous journey.”
“Fine.” Horne rose from his seat. “Let’s go right now. We can be back and out of here by tonight.”
“We’ll see,” Harmony said. “I will lend you a couple of trucks and one of my men on one condition—if you wait and leave first thing in the morning. If you choose to take her to FEMA, you can return in the afternoon, get your people and your things, and head out immediately.”
“Why not now?” The sooner they got Amelia and Benjie to the FEMA center, the sooner they could stop this thing. Even if the chance was slim, they had to take it.
Gonzales tugged down his mask and lit a cigarette. “Trust me. If we run into trouble, we’ll be thankful for every minute of daylight we have. It’s foolish to travel anywhere at night.”
“Then we’ll do as you advise.” Micah didn’t wait for Jericho’s response. They needed all the help they could get. If it would save Amelia, he’d do anything. “Thank you for your offer.”
Jericho shot Micah a look. He cracked his knuckles and sighed. “Fine. We leave at dawn.”
Nadira sat up straighter in her seat, folding her hands on the table. “Thank you for your hospitality. We know how much time and effort it takes to feed us and provide shelter. I would like to contribute any way that I can.”
Harmony smiled warmly at her, wrinkles appearing at the corners of her eyes. “We do have farm animals to tend to and some fences that need mending.”
Celeste made a face like she’d bitten into something bitter. “You don’t have service bots for that?”
Harmony’s smile widened. “Here at Sweet Creek, we believe that physical labor is good for the soul.”
“My soul is just fine,” Celeste muttered.
An African-American woman bustled out of the kitchen carrying a huge bowl of sweet peas. She set it in front of Harmony and gave them a small wave. She was in her forties, her short hair tied back in a bandana. “I’m Anna. Formerly a gourmet chef. I whip up most of the food here.”
After pleasantries and introductions, she went back to the kitchen. Harmony dumped the peapods onto the table and began shelling the peas into the now empty bowl. “Feel free to help.”
Micah, Nadira, and Willow grabbed a handful of pods and started shelling. Celeste stared at the pea pods like she’d never seen such things before, like preparing food was a foreign concept, a thing reserved for servants and metalheads. To her, it probably was.
“What do you know about the state of things?” Nadira asked.
“The military told us very little,” Elise said.
Harmony’s face darkened. “That’s to be expected, I suppose. Dozens of travelers have passed through over the last few months. I worked as a secretary in a pediatrician’s office before the bioterrorist attacks.
“The government called in the National Guard to arm the hospitals and clinics. Curfews went into effect in every major city, bu
t that didn’t stop people from looting pharmacies for antibiotics and pediatric offices for antivirals that didn’t work. Travelers were quarantined in tent cities outside airports. Stadiums were seized by the government and used as quarantine centers.”
“What about the bodies?” Micah adjusted his glasses. He tried to imagine what it must have been like, but couldn’t. It was too huge, too awful, like some terrible nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.
Harmony flexed her fingers, glancing at the manicure beneath her gloves before tossing a handful of shelled peas into the bowl. “For a few weeks, the Department of Health commissioned body-collection teams to travel around and load the bodies into vans. That didn’t go over well with the surviving family members. The collection teams had to be protected by drones and guards in combat gear. But after a few more days, there were fewer and fewer family members to complain. And one day, the white vans stopped coming.”
“What about the CDC? Haven’t they developed a treatment?” Elise asked anxiously. The peapod in her fist split open, green goo oozing between her fingers.
“The CDC fell.” Gonzales leaned against the wall and took a drag of his cigarette. “The vloggers showed it happening in Atlanta. If anyone had the vaccine, it would be them, right? Some people believed the government was withholding the cure. They went mad. Hundreds of people camped out in front of the CDC. After a week, it was thousands.
“The National Guard was overwhelmed. They even shot citizens. But it didn’t matter. The mobs kept coming. They closed the CDC, and the remaining workers had to be airlifted by chopper from the roof.”
Micah rolled a pea between his fingers. The things Harmony and Gonzales said were shocking. The world had been bad for a long time. Armed gangs had ruled the streets of his neighborhoods for years. Violence and chaos weren’t anything new. But this was on a mind-boggling scale. “Is the government still functioning?”
Harmony shrugged. “There are rumors. Once the government shut down the internet and demanded self-imposed quarantines, we were cut off from the rest of the world. Without telecommunications, it’s impossible to know. Judging by the last newsfeed reports, things aren’t good. The panic and rioting in the major cities was so severe the military pulled out, abandoning Chicago, Tampa, L.A., and who knows where else.”
“Where are the other safe places?” Nadira asked. “Surely, there must be some.”
“Three weeks ago, they did those chopper flyovers, dropping red and green pamphlets,” Gonzales said. “They directed the sick to the FEMA regional centers, the well to designated safe zones.”
“Why didn’t you go?” Micah asked.
“We’ve always been the independent type. It’s how we want it. And we’ve done fine on our own.” Harmony glanced back at Gonzales, signaling the end to the conversation. “Gonzales can show you how we do things.”
Gonzales pushed himself off from the wall. “Why don’t I show ya’ll around? I expect you’ll be wanting to take a shower soon.”
Celeste’s hand shot up. “Me first!”
Willow rolled her eyes and exchanged an irritated glance with Micah.
He shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll all get a turn.”
“Ten bucks says she uses up all the hot water,” Willow muttered.
“I’m penniless.” Finn turned his pockets inside out. “But I can bet the bag of Skittles in my pack.”
“You’re on,” Willow said. “Benjie loves Skittles.”
“Not as much as I do,” Finn said.
Willow cocked her eyebrows. “We can see that.”
“I’m touched.” Finn gave her a gentle shove, nearly knocking her over.
She shoved him back. He didn’t budge. “You’re like some kind of ginormous mountain troll, aren’t you?”
“As long as I get to eat Skittles, not goats.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “These days, you never know.”
Micah grinned as he followed Finn, Willow, and the others outside. Sweet Creek Farm included a dozen or so buildings surrounded by a forest thick with pine, maple, and oak trees.
“These are the living quarters, the mess hall, and the workshop.” Gonzales pointed at various buildings that looked like small warehouses, each one or two stories with metal roofs. He walked along a gravel path, leading them past a garage filled with trucks and cars, with a small charging station next to it.
“You planning on selling any of those electric vehicles?” Horne asked, his eyes lighting up. “I may know a buyer.”
Gonzales grunted. “No need.”
Horne’s face fell. He glanced back longingly at the vehicles as Gonzales moved the group along. “Back here are the farms and the hydroponic fields. We grow most everything—wheat, corn, potatoes, and vegetables inside greenhouses to protect them from the blights.”
Further down the path, a handful of cows and goats grazed inside a small pasture. A girl no older than ten tossed chicken feed in a large, fenced yard, three dozen chickens squawking, ruffling their feathers, and pecking the ground at her feet. In one corner stood a large chicken coup. The girl tugged at her overalls as she smiled and waved at them. Gonzales introduced her as Gracie, Harmony’s granddaughter.
“How many people live here?” Micah asked. These people had been here long before the Hydra Virus turned the world to chaos.
“We had around a hundred people here for the last decade, but we’ve taken in about fifty more in the last several weeks.” Gonzales eyed them. “Don’t know how many more we can accommodate.”
“We won’t be staying longer than tonight,” Jericho said. “After we verify the FEMA center, we’ll be on our way.”
Micah shot him a glance. Why was he so quick to shun the offered hospitality? As long as they could help Amelia and Benjie, why not stay for a while? There was food, water, and shelter here, and more importantly, normal people who didn’t try to kill them. Surely a few days of rest could only be a good thing.
“Suit yourself,” Gonzales said. “Though we do ask you to pitch in and pull your weight as long as you’re here.”
“Not a problem,” Micah said.
“We aren’t afraid of hard work,” Nadira said.
Celeste crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “Speak for yourself.”
“I’m pretty good with medical stuff,” Nadira volunteered.
“Good to know,” Gonzales said. “I’m sure Mrs. Lee would appreciate your help. Now, here’s our solar-powered well system . . .”
Micah allowed Gonzales and the others to pull ahead. He fell into step beside Gabriel. He hadn’t spoken directly to his brother in weeks. He pushed his anxiety away. “Why aren’t you in handcuffs?” he asked in a low voice.
Gabriel cocked his brows. “Why? You concerned I’ll escape the firing squad, brother?”
Micah bristled. “Answer the question.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Jericho knows he needs the manpower. Besides—” he lowered his voice even further, “Gonzales and that other guy didn’t notice me the first time we met. You think these people would let us inside their gates with a dangerous prisoner in tow? Jericho is smart. We’re already bringing the infected in with us. A terrorist would break the camel’s back, or whatever.”
Micah hated that Gabriel was right. He kicked a stray piece of gravel off the path. “What are you planning to do?”
A muscle jumped in Gabriel’s cheek. “Who says I’m planning to do anything?”
“Please don’t hurt anyone else.”
Gabriel’s mouth contorted. “The New Patriots didn’t release the virus. You have to know that—”
“Don’t you ever stop lying? Or have you forgotten how to speak the truth? I know what you did. We all know you helped kill all those people—” He couldn’t finish. A lump formed in his throat. Dangerous emotions rose within him. If he didn’t tamp them down, they’d overwhelm him. He wasn’t afraid of his feelings, but he couldn’t deal with them here in front of everyone. He still didn’t know how to deal with them. That w
as the problem.
“I did plenty of harm,” Gabriel said in a rush. “I’m not saying I didn’t. But I didn’t do that. I did not kill all these people. You know me.”
But Micah had heard that before. He blinked hard behind his glasses. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what to believe.”
Gabriel spread his arms. “Believe in us.”
“I can’t,” Micah forced out, struggling to keep his voice low. “That’s over.”
“Ask Amelia, Micah. She knows the truth. Ask her—”
But Micah turned and strode up the path, away from his brother. He joined Willow, Finn and the others listening to Gonzales drone on about hydroponics.
He bit the inside of his cheek and brushed his brother’s words out of his mind. He was only trying to drive a wedge of doubt and distrust between Micah and Amelia. He wasn’t falling for it.
Thoughts of Gabriel only filled him with impotent anger—and regret, sadness, and resentment, all hopelessly tangled with the love that still survived somehow. He thought of the Old Man and the Sea, of Santiago and his great fish, how he loved and respected it but needed to kill it anyway.
Was it a lesser sin to kill what you loved, or a greater one? Micah loved Gabriel still, in spite of everything he’d done. He would never kill his brother, but could he kill off his love? Strangle his affection for Gabriel so it didn’t hurt so damn much every single day?
It would be easier if love wasn’t in the way. If he could hate as easily as Gabriel seemed to. He’d lost his brother, even though he stood less than three feet away.
He shook the thoughts from his head. He carried that heartache with him, always. But he needed to think about the present now. He needed to focus on things he could do something about.
“This is an amazing place,” Elise said, though every word seemed forced. Her mind was consumed by other things, just like Micah’s.
“What about fortifications and defenses?” Jericho scanned the complex. “I don’t see perimeter fences or watch towers.”
“We don’t need them.” Gonzales headed back the way they’d come.
Micah hurried to catch up. He pushed thoughts of Gabriel out of his mind. “What do you mean, you don’t need them?”
